He was silent for a long moment, as though he was warring within himself over what to tell her. Finally, he spoke. “I told you I stopped working with my brother. But I didn’t tell you why.” The light in his eyes dimmed even more as he told her, “I found out five years ago that Alastair isn’t the person I thought he was. I didn’t want to believe the things I discovered about him were true. Especially after the way he stepped up to raise me after our parents died.”
Just as she had never told anyone her secret, she had a feeling Duncan had never told anyone this either. And though he wasn’t yet giving her any specifics, whatever his brother had kept from him had clearly shaken him to his very core.
He looked pained as he continued, “I’ll never stop regretting that I was blind to his faults for so long. For far too long.”
Her heart broke for him. “I’m so sorry that you lost your parents and then were so badly disappointed by your brother. But look at how well you turned out. You’re a good man, Duncan.” It had taken only a handful of hours for Lola see it. Her mother had seen it over lunch, as well, when she’d said that something about Duncan reminded Beth or the man she loved. “I could tell that from the start.” She was the one tightly holding his hand now. “The more time we spend together, the more certain I am about you.” She paused a beat before asking, “Are you still in contact with your brother?”
He shook his head, a sharp turn of his head from left to right. “I haven’t seen or spoken to Alastair in five years.” Duncan blew out a breath. “I didn’t mean to darken the mood. Let’s talk about something else.” He tried to smile as he suggested, “Why don’t you tell me your happiest memory?”
In the same way that Duncan had hated to hear about Frank’s treatment of Lola, she hated to know that Alastair had been so awful. She wanted to ask more questions, wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help him heal. But she could also see how much Duncan wanted to move on from the painful memories. So she would share a happy one with him, rather than pushing for more information just yet.
“I have so many happy memories.” She had been blessed with a great family, with a life she loved. Of course she’d had her fair share of struggles, but she couldn’t deny how lucky she’d been. “When I was eight years old, we were at the park celebrating Hudson’s birthday. It was such a pretty day. I can still remember how blue the sky was, how the air smelled like flowers, and how everybody I loved was there.” She was glad to see Duncan’s smile grow as he pictured the scene. “I was wearing my favorite dress. It was bright yellow with beautiful watercolor flowers. Brandon teased me, saying he needed to put on sunglasses because it was so bright, but I didn’t care what he thought. I loved that dress and wore it until the fabric eventually began to shred. Mom ended up incorporating a piece of it into a quilt I took to college. I still have it draped over an armchair in the corner of my bedroom.”
Heat flooded her face simply from the mention of her bedroom. She’d never been a woman who flushed at the thought of going to bed with a man, but everything felt different with Duncan. Far more special. Even simply holding hands and talking about their lives.
“Everyone else wanted to play badminton,” she went on, “but Mom must have known that I would rather draw, because she had a pad of drawing paper and pencils for me in her bag. They weren’t just any pencils—they were watercolor pencils, which I had seen in an art store and coveted ever since. When she showed me how to use the pencils and then a wet brush to get the watercolor effect, it suddenly felt like anything was possible.”
“You have a really great mom.”
“I know.” Even if Beth Sullivan was an indefatigable matchmaker. Although, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, considering her mother had been completely right about Duncan. “Anyway, I used those watercolor pencils to draw absolutely everything. My family, our dog, strangers in the park, the trees, the birds, the flowers, the buildings around the square. I’d never realized just how colorful life was until that day. From that point forward, I’ve always brought a notebook and pen or pencil in my bag. And if my creative well ever feels like it’s running a little dry, all I have to do is think back to that magical day in the park and I’m ready and raring to create again.”
“What a beautiful memory.” He looked as happy for her as he would have had the memory been his own.
“Now it’s your turn,” she said. “Tell me one of your happy memories.”
“When I was a kid, my brother and I—” His expression darkened before he regrouped. “We sometimes went to the park near the Harborwalk in Boston to kick a ball around. One afternoon, a storm blew in, and we took cover from the rain in the Boston Tea Party Ships and Museum. They were hosting an exhibit of hand-drawn maps, and even though I was only six years old, I was floored. I had always liked drawing, but there was something about the beauty and the precision of that specific kind of drawing that called to me. Granted, I was a boy obsessed with the adventure stories Alastair read to me, especially the ones that came with hand drawn maps of islands in the front, so that probably played into my interest in traditional cartography.”
“I love hearing about where your inspiration came from.” And now, more than ever, Lola wanted to know how things could have gone so wrong between Duncan and his brother. What had his brother done? But since she didn’t want to risk making him sad again, she said instead, “You must also have a lot of happy memories about the businesses you’ve funded and the people you’ve helped turn dreams into reality.”
Duncan’s expression shuttered despite what she’d thought would be an innocuous question. “It’s been a huge privilege to work with so many people who are making a difference in the world.” With that, he picked up their plates and stood. “I’ll take these into the kitchen and put them through the dishwasher.”
She’d never met a man less inclined to talk about himself. At the same time, given that he’d opened up a little bit about his fraught relationship with his brother, he didn’t seem to be trying deliberately to keep secrets from her. It was more that he found the subject too painful to focus on for too long. Given that she never liked to dwell on her own painful experiences, even with her family, whom she trusted completely, she understood Duncan’s reticence. Soon enough, she was confident they would let all of their walls down with each other.
It was yet another thought that should have surprised her, but with Duncan, everything she’d once believed to be true about relationships felt like it had been turned on its head.
Instead of going slow, she wanted to move fast.
Instead of holding things in, she wanted to share.
Instead of keeping her walls up, she wanted to let them all fall.
Instead of being afraid to open up, she wanted to trust him with everything.
And how sweet was he to offer to take care of the dishes? It was both considerate and sexy. Most guys were so focused on being macho and taking whatever they thought they could get, that it never occurred to them that giving, helping, and being kind were the ultimate in sexy. Of course, Duncan’s broad shoulders, square jaw, and piercing blue eyes didn’t hurt. “There’s something I’d really like to show you in town before you head back to Boston,” she said before he walked away with the dishes, “but I need to make a quick call to confirm that we can get in after hours. Once I’ve done that, I’ll come help you clean up.”